Текст песни:

Don’t get sidetracked, c’mon. There’s a million dollars in the motherfucking pocket. La Coka Nostra. We taking the motherfucking hip hop game over punching them in the eye. Yeah, I’m getting high.

Verse 1: Slaine

If you ain’t know homes then it might go down
La Coka Nostra, now you in the Psycho Realm
FBI got files on a microfilm
We got kids on our dick like a Michael film
No Neverland Ranch or a Running Man jam
Just a hundred-man camp go-go-gonna blam blam
R-r-running stance man with a ton of damn plants
Then get the money and scram with the gun in my pants

Verse 2: Ill Bill

Visions of pain, cut like incisions with blades
Spoke to the Devil yesterday, he put some shit in my brain
Twisted with Slaine, Manitoba sniffing the ‘caine
’86, take Jordans off of kids on the train
I spit flames, spit fireballs, wire jaws
My mind stay hacked through firewalls
We causing the riot y’all
We them white boys always down to fight and brawl
Malcolm X out the window, make the rifles talk

Verse 3: Everlast

Yo I’m mad obnoxious and I’m kinda rude
Got a pocket full of money, need to strip for food
Got an airplane ticket and a new suitcase
Got a boxcutter tucked underneath my shoelace
Got my nuts up and my passport ready
Let’s hit the fucking bar and see some titties already
Puff in Alvarado, pull over by the wall
I’mma jump out the cab and cop this eight ball